An Advent Carol
by FantasticalWhisper
Summary: A miserable, dispirited spiky-haired man receives otherworldly visitors one special night and is flown through past, present and future in order to save himself. Though what he finds is not necessarily the answer he was looking for. COMPLETE.
1. A SOLDIER's Ghost

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy is owned by Square Enix, not me. A Christmas Carol is also not mine. That right goes to the esteemed Mr. Charles Dickens. But like many others before me I have decided to interpret the famous story in my own fashion. For example, Scrooge just happens to wield a massive, fifty-pound sword.

I hope you enjoy this adaptation of A Christmas Carol. Happy Holidays everyone!

Note: I will be posting a chapter every Thursday (hopefully) until Christmas Eve.

* * *

**~Stave One: A SOLDIER's Ghost~**

The weather, like everything else in the forsaken ruins of Midgar, was bleak. As dusk crept closer the temperature rapidly dropped, until it felt like the air was biting at exposed flesh. It was even colder on a motorcycle. Cloud Strife grimaced as he took a gloved hand off the handle and zipped up his knit vest in order to protect his neck. Then with his other hand he rotated the grip on the throttle. Fenrir let out a snarl and a burst of speed in response, until the shapes and colors of the already blurred landscape were rushing away with the wind.

This manic speed through the rubble of what used to be sector five continued until his destination came in sight. Easing up on the throttle, Fenrir coasted to a halt, purring contentedly after the long journey. After a moment Cloud reluctantly allowed the motor to rest. The silence that ensued was near deafening after the motorbike's endless roar. He dismounted, checked to make sure the compartments that housed his various swords were tightly sealed and then made his way up the cracked stone stairs that led to the doors of the church.

Cloud didn't live here because he was particularly religious. In fact, he didn't believe that any type of god existed. If one did, certainly all that had happened to the Planet in the past few years, and what was happening even now, would not have been allowed. No, he stayed here because this place offered relief to his vexed mind. And because there was nowhere else he could go.

As if in direct contradiction to that thought, his cell phone rang. Cloud didn't need to read the words on the front screen to know the identity of the caller. He tried to ignore the ringing, each second feeling more guilty and miserable. Mercifully the answering machine picked up. He let out the breath he'd been unknowingly holding, as if he had tried to be quiet in case the phone would somehow betray him and answer on its own accord. Soon three quick bursts of vibration signaled he had a new message. That would be listened to later, if he could face listening to Tifa's worried voice. She wasn't the only one from his old team that had been checking up on him. Yuffie, Barret, even Reeve had called within the past couple of days, wondering what he was up to.

Battered yet still intact wooden doors creaked open to reveal the sanctuary. The Church in the Slums had certainly seen better days. The high vaulted ceiling was partially caved in where one of the massive stone columns had collapsed, revealing a darkening sky that promised generous helpings of snow within the next day. Stained glass windows that once upon a time must have been glorious to view were coated with grime, obscuring vast portions of their images. Somehow fiends had yet to infiltrate this place, while throughout the rest of the dead city of Midgar fiends ran rampant, breeding in the shadows like cockroaches.

Cloud walked wearily over to where his bed roll was lying on the floor, near the array of white and yellow lilies that grew from the patch of dirt where the worn wooden floorboards had been ripped up. A year ago these flowers had been flourishing, but without proper care their numbers had decreased until all that remained were a few emaciated stalks. The sight stirred up a deep sadness in Cloud. Aerith would have been appalled to see her beloved garden now. He wanted to do something to stop the inevitable, to preserve this small sample of beauty. But like the rest of his life he didn't know how to help. The flowers would wither and die, like everything else. Unconsciously Cloud raised his right hand to grip his left upper arm. Perhaps he would still be here to watch their final days. Perhaps.

Goggles and gloves went on the box besides his makeshift bed, but he decided to keep his boots on due to the cold. It was rather early to sleep, but he didn't want to remain awake and dwell on what was constantly plaguing his mind. Geostigma. That one word would have been meaningless a year ago. Even six months ago it was merely rumor, some strange story people were telling to scare each other. But by now the disease was very real. Far too real for Cloud's taste.

He got as comfortable as was possible with only a thin canvas between him and the frozen floor. A spare blanket tucked around his muscular frame ensured no cold drafts would reach him. The constant worrying made Cloud feel more tired than all the travelling he had done recently, for his delivery job as well as his more secret project. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

xxxxx

Someone was calling to him. The voice was achingly familiar, though it took him a moment to remember to whom it belonged.

A prod on his upper arm. The pressure was light, but it still created a sharp pain when it connected. He moaned and drowsily cracked his eyes open. Through his sleep-bleary vision he saw a face floating above his own, looking down on him. A pale face edged with spiky raven hair and a cross-shaped scar along his jaw line. This triggered a memory, sitting in a near-catatonic state from mako poisoning as a lone person looked after him, chatting in a friendly, encouraging tone.

"Zack..?" Cloud blinked a couple of times, expected the vision to vanish once he woke entirely. But the figure only sharpened.

"Hey there, buddy." Zack Fair was next to him, sitting back on his heels and seeming at ease. The first-class SOLDIER looked exactly as he did the day he died, old uniform and all.

Cloud pushed himself up into a sitting position, wondering if he was still dreaming. "Zack, what are you doing here?"

"Not happy to see me?"

"I don't mean it like that." He stared up at Zack, blonde eyebrows drawing together.

"Wow man, you sound pretty bad. Look pretty bad, too. Why are you down in the dumps?" He grinned wryly, looking around at inside of the battered church. "It's Christmas Eve."

"What's there to be happy about," Cloud mumbled, lowering his gaze. Actually he had lost track of the days. It felt odd to hear Christmas had arrived and he hadn't even known. Then again, it wasn't like he would be celebrating this year.

"What indeed." Zack stood up in a motion reminiscent of the upward half of a squat. "This isn't the first place I'd pick to spend a winter night. Why aren't you at Seventh Heaven?"

Cloud didn't bother asking how Zack knew of Tifa's bar. This entire thing was unreal. "I can't go there," he told Zack.

"I see you got a pretty nice bike out there," the other man observed. "So nothing's physically stopping you… Or is it?"

Cloud curled his left hand into a fist. Beneath the long black sleeve his arm was covered by a dark smudge that expanded day by day, discoloring his skin and making the area achingly tender. The larger it got the more intense the pain when it attacked, unpredictable and completely disabling.

"There's no cure," Cloud quietly replied. He had been thinking it in his head for days now, yet hearing the fact out loud made it nearly unbearable. How many times, how many places on the Planet had he gone in search of the knowledge needed to beat the disease? Enough to wear out two sets of tires. At last his stubborn head finally accepted the bitter truth.

"So, now what?" prompted Zack.

"I don't know." Give up, he imagined. There wasn't anything else he could do. He had failed.

"Give me a break. What happened to SOLDIER honor, huh? You can't quit."

Cloud let out a mirthless huff of a laugh. "I never made SOLDIER, remember?"

Zack gave him one of his patented, insufferable grins. "It's what's in here that counts," he said, tapping a finger against his chest.

"So you say."

The two men were silent for a moment. The moon had now risen to the hole in the ceiling. It peaked out of the thick cloud cover and bathed them in pale light before being hidden once more.

"Out with it," said Zack when he noticed the odd expression on Cloud's face.

"I don't think you're real."

In response, Zack burst out laughing. He spread his arms, palms up, before him. "I'm right here. What, you don't trust your eyes now?"

"I'm not getting deceived again," Cloud replied, suspicious despite his desire to believe his friend was truly there. He had too much experience being manipulated. If Sephiroth could control his mind, it would be a simple task to trick his senses.

"Well, real or not I'm here tonight to warn you, Cloud."

"To warn me?"

"I gotta protect my living legacy, don't I?" Zack grew suddenly serious. "You still have a chance to accomplish what you seek."

"That's impossible." Geostigma couldn't be fought like a normal enemy. He had let his family down and would be destroyed by the disease he had so confidently set out to defeat.

"Anything is possible, and by the end of the night you will know that both my message and I are real. You will be haunted by three spirits."

"I think I'd rather not," replied Cloud. What good would meeting ghosts do? They wouldn't be able to help anymore than him.

"Who says you have a choice?" replied the SOLDIER. Abruptly he began to disappear, light glittery green tendrils licking his body.

"Zack…" Cloud reached out a hand. Even if this was just a dream, he wanted to delay the end of his greatly-missed friend's unexpected visit.

"Expect the first ghost when the bell tolls midnight."

By the last word Zack was gone, his voice lingering a moment longer before fading with him.


	2. The First of the Three Spirits

**~Stave Two: The First of the Three Spirits~**

Cloud tossed and turned for hours. Try as he may, he couldn't shake off the memory of Zack's visit. Could the dead SOLDIER have truly ventured from the Lifestream to relay a message to him? He shifted onto his back, ignoring the dull throb in his arm brought about by the sudden movement, and looked up at the arched ceiling as if the answer to all his problems would appear if he gazed hard enough.

Common sense finally won out. He sighed. Zack was dead. There was no hope for him to find a way to defeat geostigma. And besides, the church bell had been taken down decades ago.

No toll of the bell, no ghosts.

At long last his mind calmed enough for him to slip into a light doze. He was nearly asleep when a startling sound boomed through the still night air. Snore clipped short he bolted to his feet, stumbling as the blanket ensnared his ankles. It was a bell, deep and resounding. To Cloud it sounded more like a dirge than a wondrous peal to celebrate the arrival of Christmas Day.

He stared up at the lone tower. There was no motion in the dark alcove. There shouldn't even be a bell, yet the hollow foreboding dongs still resonated through the church with a slow, regular tempo. All the while the swordsman stood there, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

The bell finally stopped, the melancholy sound tapering off until it was dead silent throughout the church once more. Cloud took in a deep breath, willing his heart to return to resting rate. That done he turned back to his bed roll. Only a shape on his peripherals caught his attention.

He spun around, calling himself a fool for not wanting to bring any weapons inside this peaceful place while quickly scanning the church for anything he could use to fight. Then his higher mental processes finally caught up and he registered what he saw.

"Vincent," Cloud called in relief. He hadn't heard him come in, but Vincent Valentine was better than any mysterious ghost from his imagination. "I wasn't expecting to see you around here." Come to think of it, hadn't he last heard that Vincent was wandering about somewhere on the western continent?

The gunman was leaning against the wall in the front of the church, arms crossed and eyes closed. In its own odd way that familiar pose comforted the spooked Cloud, who had far too many supernatural scares for one night.

"Vincent?"

"No."

Cloud looked at his friend in confusion. And then his eyes widened. It looked like Vincent… but there was a subtle difference, an otherworldliness that was rather difficult to pinpoint. Something in his facial features, yes. Strangely the man appeared both young and ancient at the same time, or maybe neither at all. The figure itself fluctuated in and out of focus. A hand, a leg, then the entire red cloak seemed to dissolve into the shadows. Even his gauntlet seemed to diminish until the bright gold vanished from sight, reappearing the next instant. All throughout the inspection the figure stood there, neither making a sound nor physically moving.

"Who are you?" Cloud spoke in a hushed, awed tone. He couldn't help but be a bit fearful of this being who was even more peculiar than his old teammate.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past," it spoke in Vincent's deep, gruff monotone. Even though the two were a few paces apart the words came to him as if they were traveling from a great distance.

"So Zack really did come see me," murmured Cloud. Unless he was still dreaming. Another deception created from his not-quite stable mind.

At last the specter opened its eyes. The luminescent red orbs were the only thing that seemed constant on its ever-shifting form. It strode forward, armor plated boots not making a whisper on the wooden floorboards, before stopping a short distance away. The way he had walked, the way he stood there now -hand never far from the gun handle sticking out of its holster- the way he watched Cloud through the dark locks that covered his expressionless face, his entire presence screamed Vincent Valentine. Yet there was no way that was possible.

"Why are you here?" Cloud asked, watching his visitor carefully. He tried to focus on one part of the Ghost but it seemed to vanish, only to reappear once his gaze travelled elsewhere. He settled on the eyes, which stared back at him with the same if not greater intensity than the real Vincent had.

"Your welfare."

Definitely not Vincent. He didn't think Vincent would ever be that forthcoming about a companion's health. Cloud looked again upon his strange visitor. He rather doubted this being could cure geostigma, much less give him the knowledge to do the same with others.

"Your reclamation, then."

Cloud blinked in surprise. He hadn't spoken the thought aloud, yet the Spirit seemed to know what had gone through his head.

"Reclamation? From what?" he asked.

The Ghost Who Wasn't Vincent strode forward and before Cloud could react it grabbed hold of his arm. He gasped at the pain and then gasped again as the church wobbled like ripples in a pool of water. A soft light began to glow all around him, though he was unable to see where it originated.

"Come with me and you shall see."

Without warning they were airborne. Through the roof they flew, over Midgar and quickly passing the inhabited areas. Edge was out of sight in the blink of an eye. Up and up they went, faster and higher than even an airship was capable. Cloud closed his eyes, feeling sick. All the while the Spirit held fast to his arm, pulling him towards some unknown destination.

He was caught off guard when he found solid ground under his boots once more. He opened his eyes and looked around, wondering where this Vincent had taken him. To his surprise they were standing in the center square of Nibelheim, a tiny out-of-the-way town built at the foot of the perilous, jagged crags of Mt. Nibel. It was midmorning and the ground was dusted in a fine coat of frost.

"This is my hometown," Cloud said aloud. He had returned last year with his team, expecting to find piles of cinder and charcoaled remains. Instead he discovered Nibelheim exactly as it had been in his youth, as if Sephiroth's rage and displaced wrath against the town had never occurred. Yet the longer he looked, the more he noticed something was different than a year ago.

A nearby door opened and a man came out, his arms laden with a heavy axe. He tromped over to a large pile of logs along the side of the house which he proceeded to chop into smaller pieces for tinder. Two very young children, one of which was still mastering how to walk, came out as well, giggling as they toddled about playing some silly game. Cloud recognized the family. Those children had been only a few years younger than him when he lived here.

"How is this possible?"

"These are but shadows of the things that have been," spoke the Ghost. The reply was unexpected; Cloud had forgotten about his companion, so enthralled was he with observing the children.

"You mean…" Images of what _else_ had been found in the rebuilt town flashed in his mind. Huddled shapes swathed in black, muttering incoherently about a Reunion.

"No. They are just memories. Your past is being replayed for you." The Ghost turned, his red cape fluttering despite the lack of breeze and dissolving into nothingness before returning at irregular intervals.

"Come."

They walked through the small, poor town, watching the even poorer people going about their daily routine and not seeming to notice their passing. Every face Cloud knew and named, though it had been years since he saw them last. When two or more villagers met they exchanged greetings of well-wishing and cheery smiles. It took a while but the overly warm words finally registered to Cloud.

"It's Christmas, isn't it." Now that he looked, the town had been decorated with diligent care. Wreaths decked with holly hung from doors and fern branches lay atop windowsills. Red bows were tied to each fence post in sight, a pop of bright color in the mellow surroundings. And by nightfall every candle that could be spared would illuminate the darkness, making the town seem to sparkle with holiday magic. Despite himself, Cloud felt wonder and excitement take hold of him, forgetting in that moment the reasons for his previous lack of Christmas spirit.

The door which the Ghost now led him was as familiar as the rest. A wreath made of pine fronds and tiny wild berries clung to the center of the door.

Cloud turned to the Spirit. "Are we going inside?"

"Wait." The Ghost of Christmas Past watched the door patiently and Cloud took the cue to do the same.

The door opened, revealing two children three or four years older than the first pair. Cloud's stomach did an odd flutter when he saw who they were.

"I don't know…" said the young girl, looking rather uncertain. "Maybe we should try tomorrow."

"No way! We're going sledding today," asserted the boy. He jumped off the step and Cloud, who was still recovering from shock and not prepared, found the boy flying straight at him. At the last moment the swordsman flexed his knees and planted his feet for impact -a mechanical reaction from Shinra infantry training- but none came. Disconcertingly, the boy sailed straight through him.

"Woo!" happily crowed the boy, stomping his boots to make crunching sounds in the thick snow. The erratic movements were causing his messy blond hair to become even more disheveled. "It's perfect!"

Cloud looked around in confusion. What had been a bare covering of frost was now a good five inches of snow, the perfect compact kind for making snowballs. He raised an eyebrow at the Ghost but received no explanation as to why time had passed without his notice.

The girl still hadn't moved from the safety of the threshold, though she was watching the boy with a torn expression. The boy noticed she hadn't yet joined him and returned to the doorstep.

"You aren't scared, are you?" he asked, his blue eyes widening.

"N-no," she replied, trying to sound brave as she shook her head. The girl painstakingly readjusted the wool cap over her long dark brown hair and then secured her handmade scarf. It was obvious she was trying to delay.

"Then let's go!" The boy grabbed the wooden sled that was leaning against the house and then grabbed the girl's hand, tugging her off the doorstep. Together the friends made their way down the street. By now Cloud had become so captivated that he mechanically began to follow, watching them from a distance.

A light snow began to drift down from the grey sky. Cloud raised a hand, but the snowflakes drifted through his proffered palm. That reminded him of his companion. Cloud turned his head and saw the Vincent impersonator close behind him, moving so silently and fluidly it could have been floating instead of walking. The Spirit caught his gaze and nodded, signaling it was alright to proceed.

"We should climb Mt. Nibel," Cloud heard the boy say.

"We're not allowed to go there!" exclaimed the girl, looking truly scared now.

"Well, since it's your first time sledding and you aren't a pro like me, I guess we should stick with the hill," the boy replied, glancing wistfully up at the pointed mountain that towered above the town.

The hill of which the boy spoke was just on the outskirts of Nibelheim, a slope that appeared much steeper when Cloud was little. Vaguely he wondered why the kids had been allowed out unsupervised, especially when this was the time of year zuu venture close to the village. He wasn't afraid for the children's safety, however; they would make it home without incident.

The two made it to the top. The boy plopped the sled into the snow and immediately mounted it, leaving a space behind him which he patted with a mittened hand. "Come on, Tif," he called. "It's fun, you'll see."

The girl hesitantly situated herself on the back of the sled and peered over her friend's shoulder, gulping as she viewed their precarious position. It looked like she was second-guessing her decision, but before she had the chance to get off the boy dug his feet into the ground and pushed off. The wooden sled sped down the hill, the girl's screams echoing after it. In a few seconds they had reached the bottom and the sled coasted to a stop.

The boy let out a whoop and turned back to look at his friend. Now the girl's big brown eyes were shining with excitement. "Let's go again, Cloud!" she called, already racing up the hill. Her friend laughed along with her, dragging the sled behind him.

"Why am I seeing this?" the older Cloud asked, turning away from the kids who were the reflections of himself and his best childhood friend. It was nice, remembering how he and Tifa used to go sledding after the first decent snowfall, but he didn't want to be sentimental. What was the point?

The Ghost gave him a searching look, red eyes piercing into blue. "Let's continue. Perhaps you will understand soon."

Abruptly they were standing outside the same wreathed door as before. This time the children were entering the dwelling, wet and frozen to the core yet deliriously exhilarated.

"My mom made hot chocolate," Tifa was telling her friend as they stepped up the step. "Want to come in?"

"Nah… I have things to do," Cloud said evasively. The older Cloud winced, recalling how nervous he felt being around Tifa. The sad thing was he was just as socially awkward now than he was back then, perhaps even more so. He was best at _doing_ things, like sled riding or fighting mako-spawned beasts; sitting around and holding a conversation were beyond his abilities, even when only in the company of friends.

Tifa looked disappointed, but quickly regrouped. "Then stay here and I'll go get your present."

"I get a present?" Cloud responded in surprise and alarm. They had never exchanged gifts before.

"Yeah, it's _Christmas_. Wait here, I'll be right back." Tifa dashed into the house, leaving the boy to stew in anxiety for a few moments.

"Here," she said breathlessly when she returned, shoving into his hands a messily-wrapped, blue-bowed package that looked as if it had been jammed into her piano for storage. Both Clouds, the one now holding the gift and the other standing a few paces away, stared at the item. Only the elder knew what was hidden inside.

It was a tiny box the width of his thumb, and on each face the symbol for luck had been painted. You were to write down your life's desire on a minuscule bit of paper, place it inside the box and wear it on a leather thong around your neck. Supposedly as long as you kept it with you, your dream would become reality.

"Don't open it until tomorrow," Tifa reminded him, a shy smile on her face.

The boy nodded in agreement, though he was handling the present as if it were a time bomb he didn't know what to do with. He left, the girl calling out "Merry Christmas" before heading back inside to warm up.

Cloud let out a long sigh as he watched his younger self stomp through the snow toward home. He would open the present on Christmas and carry out the instructions that same day. His hope to join SOLDIER and become the greatest warrior in the world would be carried with him even years afterwards.

Perhaps he should have brought the wishbox to Midgar with him. Maybe a bit of luck would have been enough to tip the scales, and his life could have ended up differently. But should, would and could don't cut it, not in this world. 'If wishes were chocobos,' his mother used to say. He sighed again. _I'd be the wealthiest choco-breeder on the Planet._

Suddenly they were inside Cloud's house. A lump formed in his throat as he gazed around at the familiar furnishings. It was one of the smallest homes in the town, yet his mother always made sure it retained a warm, cozy atmosphere. And there she was, sewing in the rocking chair next to the fireplace. Fan had always been a vibrant woman, full of love and kindness and creativity. She was a great artist, and they were her own paintings that covered nearly every inch on the walls. Those nimble hands had been forced into the work of the town seamstress when her husband departed this world, leaving her to care for their infant child. Yet despite the tough life she never once lost her faith and her tranquil optimism.

"Cloud, please sit down," the woman in the rocking chair requested, not taking her eyes off her work. For a moment the swordsman thought his mother was talking to him until she added, "The snow's not going to stop any sooner because you're watching it, dear."

The boy peering through the window in the kitchen was a year or two older than the version Cloud had last seen. A little taller, untidy hair a little longer, but the child still retained that same limitless energy. And that energy he now seemed to be struggling to contain.

"Mom, there's nothing to do," he complained, glancing wistfully out the window. A blizzard had been roaring for over twenty-four hours now, depositing over three feet of snow and effectively trapping the villagers of Nibelheim inside their houses.

"Why don't you pick a book to read, or draw something?" Fan responded patiently as she continued her stitching.

The young Cloud made a face. He was never patient enough for books and he certainly hadn't inherited his mother's artistic ability; besides, both activities required the person to sit down! The boy was ready to bounce off the walls.

Finally Fan looked up at her son and gave a tired smile. "Have I ever showed you how to make paper snowflakes?" she asked, setting down her needle and thread.

"No," answered the boy. He knew what paper snowflakes were and thought it was a stupid thing to make, but at least it would be doing something. And as a plus he'd get to cut stuff.

"Well, it's certainly time I taught you then." His mother went to a drawer and found a stack of paper and two pairs of scissors. Soon after she and the boy were busy cutting nicks and slices out of folded paper at the kitchen table.

Cloud silently watched the pair work. His mother had always been a constant source of comfort, though admittedly she had babied him a little too much. That had been one of the reasons he ended up leaving Nibelheim to seek adventure and action. He sure as hell found it.

_I wonder how Mom would feel about my life now,_ Cloud thought to himself. No doubt she would tell him she was proud no matter what. Fan never said so, but he had hurt her badly, leaving. He was only fifteen years old when he went to join SOLDIER, ready to make a name for himself and not considering the consequences of his departure. He wished she was still alive so he could tell her he was sorry.

"If you thought this was going to make me feel better, it's not," he told the Spirit numbly. Had Vincent been here, Cloud was sure he would have given him the same reproachful stare. The swordsman felt a little affronted. The Ghost wasn't even trying to be helpful or explain why they were here!

"You seem to have a lot of caring women in your life," it finally commented.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The Ghost did not respond further. Instead it raised its left hand and wiggled its fingers. Instead of grating metal there was the sound of a harsh gale. The scene immediately switched, though Cloud hadn't felt like he physically moved. Now they were standing in front of the Nibelheim Inn on the other side of town. Though it had been noon on a overcast day a second ago, the last glow of light was now fading over the cloudless horizon. The same amount of snow covered the ground, but to Cloud it felt like a different day.

The chatter of a few dozen voices could be heard coming from inside the building, and Cloud could guess exactly where: the inn's dining room, which was the largest space in the whole town, apart from Shinra Manor. It was here that the whole town assembled every year for the communal Christmas Eve Feast.

Most of the families in the small town could not afford to have their own, private Christmas meal. Instead, every home was responsible for one particular dish, which they brought to the table to share along with the happiness of the season and the hope for the next year's prosperity. By joining together there was a bountiful amount of food and people could simply relax and enjoy themselves. This tradition was older than living memory.

Cloud wanted to enter, but when he reached toward the door handle his hand passed straight through. A few more attempts yielded the same results. The Ghost gave a low Vincent-like grunt and swept past him. Without a pause it walked straight through the solid door. Cloud followed after, his teeth set and back rigid as he entered. It was just like walking through empty air.

Once inside he oriented himself and walked down the hall to the dining room. The celebration had already begun, and merriment and feasting were evident all along the line of conjoined tables that had been packed into the space.

The Spirit was leaning against the far wall and not looking like it was about to move anytime soon, so Cloud began to wander around, taking in the revelry. It had always been a little overwhelming for him, but he could see why people looked forward to this social gathering every year.

Halfway down the long line of villagers Cloud recognized himself, probably fourteen or fifteen by now, seated between his mother and the baker, Mr. Ceresota. Across from him sat Tifa, whom he admitted looked rather lovely in her festive red dress. The young woman looked up and smiled at his younger self. He noticed she was wearing silver teardrop earrings… the ones he had given her the Christmas before he left.

The warm feeling he had hereby accumulated dulled dramatically. This was the very last Christmas Feast he was ever to have in Nibelheim. Indeed, the very next day he would need to leave if he wanted to make it to Midgar by the first of the new year, when the Shinra Corporation enlisted new recruits.

"A toast!" someone shouted and the words were heartily taken up by others until the chant was echoing through the tightly-packed room.

The innkeeper, a stout, ruddy-faced man called Fezziwig, stood and raised his hands for silence. "My friends," he began, gazing about the room with a fond smile, "it is an honor to have you all back under my roof to share in this most wondrous occasion."

Everyone applauded and called thanks to their host. A humble, honest man he was, and he took the expressions with good grace before continuing.

"We come together as a community to celebrate Christmas Day, a day where we must be thankful. This year was undoubtedly hard on many of us, dealing with the summer drought and the flock of skeeskee that migrated up from Cosmo Canyon. But let's forget our trials and be merry. Look at the wonderful meal before us, which everyone helped to make possible. Look at the smiling families and friends and neighbors all around this room! I consider myself blessed for being here to celebrate with each and every one of you."

More cheering, more people extending genuine smiles and kind words to everyone in their vicinity, especially towards the good innkeeper. Cloud had to actually stop himself from joining in as well, so contagious was the festive mood in the room.

"May this next year be blessed and prosperous," finished Fezziwig. "My friends, Merry Christmas to you all!"

"Hear, hear!" Glasses were raised simultaneously as the townsfolk of Nibelheim toasted the innkeeper and his great speech. The Christmas dinner then continued on with redoubled joyful clatter.

Without warning Cloud was back outside. The sky was decked with a million bright, twinkling stars and the moon was full, its illumination being reflected in turn by the snow and making the town glow. The Ghost turned and peered solemnly down the street.

A couple was walking towards them, their eyes averted and their coats drawn close to their bodies to protect from the night's chill.

"Do you really have to go?" Tifa asked, her voice low but the soft snow carrying her words over to where Cloud and the Spirit stood.

"I have to get out of here, Tif," the younger Cloud responded with the same hushed volume. "There's nothing for me here."

The young woman sighed. "I understand." She did too; Tifa Lockhart had always been an understanding person.

They continued walking, silence settling over them. "Will you write?" she asked in a tinier voice.

He was startled by the question. "I'll try," was his eventual response.

"Just make sure… make sure you always remember our promise. Okay, Cloud?" Tifa slowed to a stop, finally looking over at her companion. "Once you're a famous SOLDIER you have to come rescue me whenever I need help."

He nodded. "I promise."

That was the last time they spoke, the last time the two friends saw each other until Cloud returned to Nibelheim years later on a mission for Shinra. But back then he had been too embarrassed by his rejection from SOLDIER and being a mere infantryman to reveal himself.

The swordsman watched as the two broke apart, separating on their way back to their own homes. Cloud knew that boy would leave at the crack of dawn before most of the town even woke up. Before then he would take off the wishbox Tifa had given him years earlier and tuck it away in a drawer in his bedroom so it would not be discovered that he hadn't taken it. Cloud remembered what he had been thinking back then. He hated to hurt Tifa's feelings, but at the same time he wasn't a child anymore and didn't want to pretend otherwise. The swordsman sighed. How arrogant of his abilities, how naïve about the world he had been back then.

"It's time for some answers," he said, turning to his companion. "What's this all about?"

This time the Ghost answered with a bluntness that surprised Cloud. "You have given up on the world, have you not? You're waiting to die. What else is there to do but dwell in memories? Your childhood seems to have been pleasant enough."

Cloud dropped his gaze in shame. That was true. But what _use_ were these memories? They had sentimental value, but that was all. He had expected this otherworldly being would show him something more dramatic for his troubles.

"Is this something more to your liking?"

The scene changed so turbulently Cloud let out a shout of alarm. After an assault of sound and light he was standing upon an elevated platform within an elegant cavernlike building partially submerged in crystal clear water. But Cloud didn't spare a glance for the architecture. Aerith was kneeling right in front of him, head bowed and hands folded in prayer.

"Aerith…" he whispered, his voice cracking. There she was, right in front of him, much more than a shadowy fragment of his memories. He called her name again, but she was too engrossed to respond. Then suddenly the significance of this place crushed him.

"No… No, not again." Cloud forced himself to move, though his boots suddenly felt heavier than lead. He squatted next to Aerith, unsure how to get her attention.

"Aerith. Aerith, we need to go." The flower girl didn't reply. He reached to shake her shoulder, yet his hand traveled straight through her. "Aerith, please! I won't let you-" His voice gave out but he continued to physically encourage her, nearly pleading with the oblivious woman to leave while it was still possible.

But he ran out of time.

Cloud sensed more than heard the other's arrival. He glanced up in time to see a black and silver figure descend. Cloud screamed Aerith's name and tried with all his might to push her aside. All he succeeded in doing was losing his balance. He looked up in time to see a pale blade jut out of her slim figure, the force sending a spout of blood. Specks of bright red flecked Cloud. Slowly he looked up into the villain's face, the echo of the rage and horror and sorrow filling his core. Those luminescent green eyes stared straight at him above a gloating smirk. Then Sephiroth yanked his masamune free.

Aerith's body seemed to fall in slow motion. Cloud extended his arms to catch her, but right as she connected everything faded like mist, abandoning him to a black, formless void.

How many times had that scene haunted his nightmares, so vivid he woke in a cold sweat? Every so often -even while the current biohazardous calamity was suffocating the world- his mind still reverted back to that older, pinnacle moment of failure.

Suddenly a fiery sensation shot up the length of his arm. The pain became so intense he lost all awareness of himself and the outside world. It zapped and burned as it coursed down his nerves, feeding on his very lifeforce. He could do nothing more than endure for an everlasting, merciless amount of time.

Seconds or hours later the pain ebbed, and for a moment he was unable to do more than blink. He was laying in a snow back, his body curled into a fetal position. The geostigma attack had ceased for now, but it left him weak and out of breath.

"You still tried to save her."

The voice pulled Cloud back to the present, or wherever they were in this pseudo-past reproduction. Vincent's unconcerned face peered down at him, observing as the swordsman tried to compose himself. Cloud eventually pushed himself to his feet, unable to look his companion in the eye as he straightened his clothing. He had never allowed another person to see this weakness. It was one of the reasons why he stopped returning to Seventh Heaven.

The Ghost was patiently waiting for an answer. Well, if it was going to ignore the awkward pain attack then so could Cloud. It took a moment to remember the context of the question. Pushing the thoughts of geostigma away, he returned to the not-much-lighter topic of the reenacted murder.

"I… I couldn't help myself," he uncomfortably replied. It had been stupid, trying to stop that moment from ending differently. Aerith wasn't coming back. But he was sure to act the same way, trying to atone for his ineffectuality as a bodyguard, had it been replayed a thousand times. _Please don't_, he thought, knowing the Spirit was likely following his silent musings.

"You acted regardless of not having the ability to affect the outcome. How is this any different than your current mission, one with an ending that has yet to be written?"

Slowly Cloud shook his head. "It's more complicated than that… it's hard to explain," he said. Explaining it to another person hurt even more than admitting it to himself.

"The past hurts. Try anyway," the Ghost prompted. Did it want Cloud to feel miserable, showing him the history of all his mistakes and character flaws? Dredge up the ugly muck he wanted to forget and make him stare it in the eye?

_Fine,_ he thought in resignation. If that was what this cynical spirit wanted, then he should just get it over with.

"I haven't given up, it's just… There's nothing I can do. I want to help my family, but I can't even help myself. I'm useless." Nothing but an insignificant puppet, unable to accomplish anything without someone pulling his strings. The words pierced like a sword in the gut.

Everything was still around them. In fact, the town seemed to be less real than it was a moment ago. Shadows encroached upon the open spaces and the moon shone dimmer. Stars disappeared until the sky was blank. Even the snow had taken on darker shades, becoming dull gray instead of glittering white. All the while the Spirit watched him, like it was waiting for something. His confession made him feel hollow and tired. He didn't know what it wanted from him.

At last the Ghost sighed. "It appears you have not yet learned. And it's become rather obvious you cannot discover things on your own," it said, an irritable overlay to its monotone.

The lighting dimmed until Cloud felt he was standing within a shadow, naught but dark nothingness on all sides. Then quite suddenly they were back at the Church in the Slums. Everything looked normal except for the otherworldly being next to him, who seemed less corporeal than ever.

"Redemption is a process that requires active participation," stated the Ghost of Christmas Past. "You'd do well to remember that. I have done all I can. Expect the Second when the bell tolls one." It then gave Cloud a critical look, no doubt frowning behind the tall brim of its cloak. "Let's not make a habit of this."

Without further farewell it vanished in its entirety.

* * *

****CONTEST** "Which characters do you think will be the ghosts of Christmas Present and Yet To Come?" (I've already wrote all of next week's chapter and half of the one after, so the answers are engraved in stone as it were.) Just summit your guesses as a review. Winners get a shoutout and maybe something more. And this is for fun: "What characters would _you_ select for the major roles?" I'm very curious, so please give it some thought and share =)**

**Author's Note: I must admit that I had fun with Vinnie as the Ghost of Christmas Past. "Let's not make a habit of this." Slight bit of dry humor there. No such luck, Vincent- you'll be saving his butt from Kadaj and filling the clueless chocobohead in on the plot a few months from now (I just watched Advent Children Complete and it always makes me laugh how Vincent basically is there to explain everything to Cloud.) **


	3. The Second of the Three Spirits

**This is my advertisement for the actual book by Dickens. It's truly an amazing, captivating story, and it's a quick read as well. I've seen tons of movie adaptations throughout my life (I personally loved the Muppets one, hehe) but only read the original book last year. The original is truly the best. The entire story can easily be found online, so if you have time this winter try taking it for a spin.**

**

* * *

**

**~Stave Three:****The Second of the Three Spirits~**

The nonexistent bell began to ring once more.

Cloud's eyelids snapped open. He was lying once more on his bedroll, though for the life of him he could not remember how he got there. His arm felt extra tender, as if the geostigma had acted up recently. For Cloud the disease was progressing faster than in most people, where the symptoms took a more gradual toll on the body and he couldn't help but think there was reason behind this. He frowned. Perhaps he had fainted from the geostigma sapping his strength. That wouldn't have been the first time. Maybe he hit his head and was suffering from amnesia.

"Get up, you lazy butt! Are you gonna make me wait here all day? How rude!" There was an over-the-top round of rather unfeminine laughter. "I mean, how 'Reno'!" More laughter, then a loud snort.

Cloud sat up and turned in the direction of the familiar voice. Then he froze, gawking at the scene displayed before him.

Had he not known better, the swordsman would have said he wasn't in the church. Perhaps it'd be closer to the mark to say he was in a coniferous forest. Every inch of cold stone was hidden from view, from the ivy wrapped about columns to holly garnishing the pew ends. Boughs of pine and fir, still fresh and glistening with dew, hung from archways and gave the air a fresh evergreen scent. Flaming torches were set in sconces along the walls, bathing the church in warm light.

But nothing compared to what was located in the church's center. Yuffie Kisaragi, ninja extraordinaire, had gone far beyond herself this time. A pile, nay a mountain of materia had been compiled next to the flowerbed, casting its own explosion of colors that rivaled the torches in intensity. Red, green, blue, yellow, purple… every materia that ever existed seemed to have been accumulated in one place. And for what purpose? Seemingly for a throne, since the ninja herself sat at the very peak looking as content as a cat in cream.

"Yuffie?"

The girl ginned cheekily. "Nope! I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present!" As with the first Ghost, this one looked and acted eerily similar to one of his teammates. The only thing amiss was that she wore a crown of laurel over her short black hair instead of the usual headband.

Cloud grimaced at the title of another supernatural visitor. Still, knowing Yuffie… He eyed the figure warily. He couldn't be sure this wasn't some elaborate scheme, her idea of "get-backs" for never answering her phone calls.

"Then how do you know the Turks?" he asked skeptically.

"Duh, I know everybody! You could to if you put some effort into it." The figure jumped nimbly off the glowing mountain. When both feet touched the ground the floor shook and the wood groaned, belying the mass of the petite figure. The Ghost started to move forward, stopped itself with a jerk, turned around to pocket a few glowing orbs, and then skipped over.

"Come on! There's so much to see and so little time!"

Cloud had already gone with "Vincent" and wasn't in the mood for another similar adventure, even if this Spirit seemed like more favorable company. The subject of his present, which was obviously going to be the focus judging from that this Yuffie said, was not something he wanted to review. Why waste the time, for no matter where he'd be taken it would only serve to make him more miserable.

Like the last visitor the Spirit appeared to read his thoughts. "No way! You're not getting out of this one, buddy!" Before Cloud could state his objections aloud it tackled him, leaping quickly onto his back.

Now Cloud was a muscular man and had been infused with mako energy that augmented his innate strength, but the sudden weight made him stagger. Before he knew it Cloud was flat on his stomach being compressed against the ground by an individual who certainly should have weighed less than three Barrets. This being was certainly more than met the eye.

Mercifully the weight lifted, allowing him to take huge gulps of much-needed air.

"Oh stand up, you big baby! Look at all the fun you're missing!"

They were outside in the middle of a clogged city street. The Spirit had transported them to Edge.

Edge had never been a pleasant town. It would take a long time for it to ever be entitled 'pleasant', since its very existence was linked to tragedy. Those who had survived Meteorfall built the city more out of bitter determination than hope during the first few months. Slowly the pain faded and the Midgar refugees attempted to scrape together a new life, though they lived with the grim reminder of that terrible day only a few scant miles from their doorsteps. But now, with the geostigma plague that had spread to the far corners of the world a mere year after that terrible calamity descended from the sky, people were once more clutching to survival.

Yet today was different. There was snow in the streets, though much of it had turned into slush under the multitude of boots hastening through the streets. The weather wasn't fouling anyone's mood. Somehow an undercurrent of optimism streaked through the pollution and despair. Men walked straighter and women smiled more openly. Children scampered underfoot with shrieks of laughter, the ruckus only adding to the overall pleasantness. Christmas Day.

A half dozen or so teenagers were involved in a snowball fight that seemed to have been progressing for some time. Forts fashioned out of snow, wooden crates and even a motorcycle were situated around the large Meteorfall monument in the center of the city. The other inhabitants of Edge, too taken by the Christmas spirit to be much annoyed, were giving the area a wide berth. Yuffie cheered as a tall redheaded girl hit a boy -taunting his friends from his perch on the monument- squarely in the face.

"I love snowball fights! Wish we could join them," the Ghost chatted. "But there're way too many things to see. Just one moment..." It reached into its pocket and pulled out a Blizzard materia. At once the trampled, dirty snow changed back to its original state and even increased in volume so there was even more ammunition for the teens' winter frivolity.

"Alrighty, back to business!" The Ghost exclaimed. It tugged Cloud down the street, beaming at the cheer that was being displayed everywhere the eye could see. Couples and groups clogged the area. Some were peering casually through the front windows of shops, some hustled about collecting the last few ingredients for Christmas dinner, while others were content to sit on a nearby stoop, drink hot chocolate and swap stories with friends. The normal irritated shouts and cusses of the city were exchanged for more courteous greetings and nods.

"Mm hmm… Do you smell that?! Ginger bread!" The Ghost squealed and darted over to the nearby bakery where a warm, wonderful aroma wafted out into the street.

Nurturing the strong feeling that he was babysitting Cloud headed towards the shop, forgetting as he tried to maneuver around the crowds that he wasn't physically there. Not really. Only after a man carrying a large box passed straight through him did Cloud remember and decide to take the more direct route.

The Ghost came out –through the window display- of the bakery just as Cloud made it to the store. In its hands was a large slice of streaming ginger cake coated in confectioner's sugar. It took a large bite and chewed, moaning its approval.

"Want some?" it asked, talking with a mouth full of food and proffering the bitten slice.

"No thanks," responded Cloud, wondering how the Ghost managed when Cloud hadn't been able to touch anything solid.

He looked around with as the Ghost stuffed its face. Why was he actually feeling guilty that he was missing Christmas, that he otherwise wouldn't have gotten to see this version of Edge? That was what he had planned after all, to stay away from those whom he had disappointed in his inadequacy. His presence would be a blemish on the holiday.

"Okay then, let's go see some familiar faces," said the cheery Ghost in direct contrast with his thoughts.

"Yuffie…"

"Are you stupid or something? I told you already, I'm not Yuffie! And you can't talk yourself out of this, so don't even try."

Even though he was prepared this time, the Ghost knocked his breath away when it jumped at him.

They were inside now, in a shabby room Cloud didn't recognize. Kids of all ages were gathered here, tearing up colorfully wrapped packages in childish frenzy while a few weary caretakers looked on in content exhaustion. Some of the children were clustered around a seated individual whom appeared to be the source of all the gifts. Cloud craned his head but couldn't see around the children to discover the person's identity.

Who he did see, unfortunately, were the Turks. Reno, Rude and Elena were grouped against the wall nearby, staying out of the children's play. Or perhaps the kids were conscientiously avoiding them so it looked that way. In any case, if the Turks were here Cloud had a good idea who was in that seat.

"Wow, the boss is certainly caught up in this crap," Reno whispered, gesturing to the man in the center of the room.

A scrawny curly-haired boy moved out of the way and now Cloud could see. Rufus Shinra -who in addition to his usual white suit was wearing red gloves, a matching scarf and a green Christmas Elf hat with a bell dangling at the end- was surrounded by a mob of tremendously excited children squabbling for presents.

Ever since the events a year ago the miserly owner of the Shinra Electric Company had been attempting to make up for his and his father's negligence. Besides overseeing the decontamination of various mako reactors all over the planet as well as financially backing much of Edge's construction, Rufus was donating toys to the city's orphanage for Christmas. And seized by the holiday magic he decided to go and hand out the gifts personally.

Cloud refused to buy the "reformed nice guy" act.

"Can't you get with the Christmas spirit, Reno?" muttered Elena, casting the other Turk a sideways look.

The redhead grinned suddenly. "Look Laney, mistletoe," he said, pointing over to the doorway where Cloud was standing. The swordsman looked up and discovered a chuck of foliage pinned over the opening. Then he quickly nudged further away when he saw the Ghost eyeing him mischievously.

"Why don't you help me get into the 'Christmas spirit' right now?" Reno finished, his smile widening.

Elena's retaliatory smack, Reno's yelp and Rude's laugh disguised as a cough hardly disturbed the children, though Rufus did glance disapprovingly in their direction.

"So how did Tseng get out of this?" Reno asked sourly after having recovered from the hit on his head- as usual, Elena hadn't held back at all. "The guy's probably relaxing back at his apartment _off duty_ like the rest of the freaking world, while we have to watch the boss fulfill his odd Santa Claus fetish. Betcha it's from not having a loving father figure."

"_He's_ not the one playing Santa Claus," Rude observed in his deep voice. The tall, bald Turk lowered his sunglasses in order to get a better view of the red-clad figure entering the room. Despite the white beard and drastic change of clothing, identity of the man wasn't difficult to determine. There was a long, sleek wave of black hair under the Santa Claus' hat.

"Holy heck, yo! It's Tseng!"

The three Turks began hooting with laughter at the sight of their leader, whom they had never seen out of the customary blue tux. That laughter was abruptly cut off when Tseng sent a cold glare at his subordinates, though Reno's shoulders continued to shake with pent-up glee.

"This is the best Christmas ever," he whispered, nudging Rude with his elbow as they watched Tseng and Rufus finish handing out presents.

"See, even your supposed enemies are spreading Christmas cheer," the Ghost said to Cloud.

Cloud grunted. A few gifts weren't enough to atone for a lifetime of callous deeds. If the mighty Rufus wanted to help so badly he should put more heat into finding a cure for geostigma. Nearly a quarter of the orphans in this room had signs of the disease, either the beginnings of dark smudges appearing on their skin or big sections of their limbs and faces covered in bandages.

"Okay, Mr. Grumpy, let's see how your friends and family are doing."

That was the last place he wanted to go. But even so… He couldn't help but be curious as to how Tifa and the others were doing.

He sighed. "Let's go, then."

The Spirit grinned and made a show of getting ready to pounce on him. It laughed when Cloud flinched away and exclaimed, "Just kidding!"

The surroundings blinked and they were standing in the bar of Seventh Heaven.

Cloud turned and frowned at his companion. "You didn't have to touch me to transport us that time?" he asked.

"Nah, I never had to. You're just fun to tackle." She directed a huge smile to counter Cloud's scowl.

He looked around the room. The bar was clearly closed for the day; blinds were drawn across the windows and the stools were piled atop the tables. But light filtered under the closed door on the other side of the room that led to the living quarters. He walked through the door –he wasn't comfortable enough going through the wall like the Ghost- and trod past the staircase into the living room.

It seemed that Tifa had finally broken down and at the insistence of the children, as well as a few pushes from the more childish adults, allowed an actual tree to replace their artificial one. Why not, if it made their first Christmas in Edge special and if Cid was enthusiastic enough to get off his rear to cut down a tree and deliver it. Too bad the pilot was never the most punctual.

Cid had brought the tree the day of the gathering, when there was already so much to get ready for that night: rooms to spruce up, dinner to prepare, and now the living room where they would exchange gifts needed to be decorated for the festivities. Needless to say everyone was a bit short-tempered from the stress.

"Barret, stop moving. It's not in place yet," admonished Tifa. The woman was on her hands and knees trying to stabilize the tree in its stand.

"That d&% Cid should be the one doing this. It's his fault the decorations ain't up!" grumbled Barret through the tall pine tree he was propping upright.

Though most of the old team plus a few others were expected for the Christmas get-together that evening only Tifa, Barret and the kids were currently in the room. An old radio in the corner played an upbeat holiday song. Marlene was coaxing Denzel to sing with her, which eventually did though it was mostly moving his lips. After Denzel she tried working on the others.

"Daddy, Tifa," she called in her adorable voice. "Sing with us!"

"Not now Marlene, I'm puttin' up the tree," Barret said. The rest of the team always made fun of how the hulky man's tone changed when he talked to his adopted daughter: gentle and nowhere near his usual volume- and God forbid if anyone used profanities within earshot. The hypocrite.

"What's wrong with that Cid?" Barret continued to grumble.

"It can't be helped, Barret," said Tifa. "Cid did his best. Besides, he's busy collecting the rest of the group now. There we go," she added as the last brace was secured. She stood up and dusted the pine needles off her skirt. Thousands more covered the wooden floor. She looked at the mess and then up at Barret.

"Hell no, I ain't cleanin'," replied the man, backing away.

"Barret, please," Tifa said with a sigh. "I need to finish the sleeping arrangements, and the shower could use a good cleaning. And I'm already behind on the food."

Barret made a huffing noise. "Would be easier if Cloud was around. Where'd that good for nothing spike-head run off to anyway?"

The temperature of the room seemed to drop at the man's words and Cloud fought the embarrassing urge to flee. Tifa's eyes left Barret's face to look out the window, her face melancholy. The children stopped scrounging through the box of ornaments to gaze at the adults. For a moment the only sound in the room came from the radio.

"I'm not sure. He stopped answering his phone a couple weeks ago. He's been distant for a while now. Ever since…" She trailed off.

"Tifa, we'll clean up," offered Denzel in a tentative voice. He had a guilty facial expression, as if he blamed himself for Cloud's disappearance, and he was relieved that no one noticed. Well, no one physically there noticed.

"Yeah, we can do it! We're lots of help," added Marlene, hopping to her feet.

The woman gave a weary smile. "I know you are, sweetie. Thanks."

Tifa left through the door with Barret grumbling in her wake. The two children began to sweep the needles off the floor with their hands, Marlene holding in squeaks every time one poked her.

"Here, let me pick up the needles," said Denzel. He ran over to the small closest and got out a battered broom. "You can handle the broom, Marlene. Make little piles so I can pick them up."

After the children cleared the mess Tifa returned with glasses of eggnog for her helpers. Some stomping upstairs indicated that somehow she had conscripted Barret's help in the cleaning process.

While children drank the sweet creamy treat, Tifa began opening the remaining boxes she had been purposefully ignoring. They were full of strings of exterior lights, the ones she had made Cloud promise to put up for her. She knew it was silly, waiting so long when it was obvious he wasn't going to turn up. But… maybe she could wait an hour or two longer. She could always make Cid do it when he'd decide to show up.

"Who wants to start decorating the tree?" Tifa asked, closing the box of lights and pushing them back into the somber corner.

"I do!" exclaimed the little girl. She ran to the couch where a line of her favorite decorations lay in wait. A delicate glass angel was selected and brought over to the tree. But Marlene hesitated. "Denzel, you put the first one on."

The boy looked surprised. His friend gave a smile and sifted through the cardboard box to find the toy soldier ornament he had his eye on earlier.

"So, how come you don't want to join them, Baggyemopants?" the Ghost asked, prodding him in the chest. He actually stumbled back a couple paces. "These people certainly want you here." It gestured with a flourish at the children, who had decided to put their favorite ornaments on at the same time, and then at the adults, who were watching with content smiles overlaying their worldly troubles.

"They're doing fine without me in their way." He was sure the night's celebration would pass splendidly whether he attended or not. No one would miss him.

"You sure about that? 'Cause I have evidence that says different."

At the Spirit's words time sped around him like a spinning vortex. Images past by in such a frenzy at first he couldn't process them. Then they seemed to slow to a more manageable speed, though they still retained a bleached, unfocused quality. Accompanying them were voices he knew very well. All of the phone messages he had ignored for the last month echoed loudly through the air, simultaneously yet each still distinguishable from the rest. It wasn't the words that mattered as much as the emotions with which they were spoken: strained cheerfulness, worry, concern, even longing. Everyone had wished he had answered instead of having to talk to his voicemail.

Scenes began playing in short bursts. Cloud in Midgar walking back to his motorcycle and discovering a young boy unconscious on the ground. Now they were on their way to Edge, where Tifa demanded him to bring the boy for care. Both of them realizing the orphan had geostigma, and debating whether it was safe to allow him to stay. Then jumping to a week later, where Denzel had been easily integrated into their lives, though his deteriorating health was an increasing concern. Cloud deciding he was going to find a cure. Him locked in his office all night, pouring over books and research articles with fervent intensity. The beginnings of his travels to every continent in search of the answer that was evading him, becoming even more stubborn as each day passed.

Finally, realizing that in his reckless search he had contracted the disease. Hiding the fact at all costs. Beginning to weaken from the disease. Tifa believing his fatigue was just from his ceaseless journeying and begging him to take a break. Eventually having to leave Edge when the signs and symptoms became too obvious.

That last scene was slower than the rest. Cloud was sneaking out of Seventh Heaven before dawn, leaving with the intention of not returning. Despite his care, Tifa had somehow caught him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, seeing his guilty expression.

The swordsman didn't know how to tell her.

She knew something about him was different, but couldn't guess the real reason why he was running.

"I have to go, Tif," he told her, turning towards the dark shape of Fenrir resting against the house.

"Cloud, wait." A gentle hand on his arm, right above the mark he was hiding. He felt it corroding his flesh and wondered if Tifa could sense the evilness that had infected him.

"I can't stay here anymore. I can't wait and hope this will get better on its own. I need to do something." He needed action, needed to feel the wind on his face and his hands on the throttle. Physical motion was _some_ kind of progress, even if it was an illusion.

"There's no need to go alone. You're part of a team, remember? You have a family."

_A family I can't protect._

The motorcycle veered down the street without its driver looking back once. If he had, he would have seen the dejected look on Tifa's face. He might have seen the silhouette of the boy watching from the upper story.

The resolution of the world sharpened and he was back in the living room of Seventh Heaven. Marlene had found a big pink ribbon and was getting Tifa to tie it into her braid. Had the girl's eyes been green she could have passed for a miniature Aerith.

"Even if they want me," Cloud amended, "I still can't give them what they need." He gazed at the close-knit group, to Denzel specifically, whom he had been previously trying not to take notice of. The geostigma mark on his forehead had gotten darker since he last saw him. It seemed to be spreading too.

"Are you sure you know what they need from you?" remarked the Ghost.

Cloud was taken aback by the comment. Of course he knew what they needed, what his job was. Denzel, Tifa, Marlene… they were all counting on him to find the cure to save Denzel. But not only had he failed in that regard, he also contracted the disease himself.

A solid round object hit Cloud in the head. Did the Spirit really just throw a materia at him?

"What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his aching temple.

"Darn, I was hoping that'd knock some sense into you. I guess I can't help," it said with a shrug. "Maybe the next Ghost will-"

"No. No more ghosts." He had enough of this. Even now that he knew how much he was missed, he was far too embarrassed to return now. He hadn't talked to let alone seen any one of his friends for weeks. What would they do if he showed up without an explanation or anything meaningful to show for himself?

The Spirit gave a Yuffie-like pout. Seventh Heaven was replaced by the Church in the Slums. All the organic decorations remained but the torches had been extinguished, leaving the interior dark and cold.

"You think a cure for geostigma is hard to come by," scoffed the Ghost of Christmas Present. "How about finding a cure for thick-headedness." It hoped on top of the mountain of materia and twirled around to face Cloud. "I'm heading off now. For your sake, and the _world_, I hope you get your act together."

With a flash of intense light the materia and the spectral being were gone.

* * *

**I'd like to give a big thanks to Soldier de Veritas and pyrotechnix for reviewing and participating in my contest! You guys rock! For everyone else out there, including the apparent 80+ people who've read this fic, the contest (see bottom of last chapter) is still going on until next week so please don't be shy. And I'd love any reviews or critiques, or even a quick "hi, merry Christmas!"! This story is especially written for all of you (no, I'm not writing this for my health ;D) and I want to hear what you think!**


	4. The Last of the Spirits

**Author's Note: One week left 'til Christmas! I hope everyone's enjoying the story so far. Please review regardless- it really means a lot to me to get some feedback (even one or two words makes me all warm and happy inside). Spread the love for Cloud's sake—I may just kill him off if I'm in a depressed mood (mwah hah hah… just kidding)**

**And I'm so sorry for the delay. I promised this chapter would be up on Thursday (major fail there x.x) Finals got in the way, so I wasn't able to write at all this week. But now exams are done and I'm home, so the final chapter will be on time!**

**Slight foul language in this chapter. It's pretty sad too. You've been warned.  
**

* * *

**~Stave Four:****The Last of the Spirits~**

Cloud didn't bother going to sleep. No matter how much he wanted to be left alone it was obvious he was going to receive another visitor before the night was out.

Wait a minute… _night?_ Surely it would be midday now, since they left Seventh Heaven in the early afternoon hours. Hadn't Christmas come and gone?

He felt horrible in spite of himself. All of his friends, the individuals he had gone through hell and back with, celebrated without him. Had the others managed to keep a drunken Cid from going out caroling? Had Yuffie been able to corner Vincent and give him a kiss under mistletoe like she had been deviously planning? Had Reeve shown up or did he send Cait Sith in his stead? Had Denzel enjoyed himself, despite it being the first Christmas without his parents? He could just picture them all, the group of his closest friends jammed in the snug little living room. The noise of laughter and conversation seemed to echo in his ears, and he could almost feel the warm, cheerful atmosphere.

With difficulty he managed to shake off the image, and the church seemed more desolate for it. He sat down on the front pew, his mind quiet for the moment as physical fatigue took its toll. Then a thought drifted to the surface. It was something the second ghost had said when it departed. _'For your sake, and the world, I hope you get your act together.'_

"And the world…?" he whispered. What, was he expected to save the entire world from geostigma? The notion made the invisible weight on his shoulders even heavier. He couldn't even save the life of a small boy; how was he supposed to stop this unstoppable plague from erasing all of humanity?

The temperature dropped well below the freezing mark. The cold and gloom seemed to seep into Cloud's bones until he was shivering. Each breath crystallized in the air before him. He brought his legs up on the pew and wrapped his arms around his knees, trying to conserve him core body heat.

"S-sorry Zack," he said through chattering teeth. He slowly lowered his head until his forehead rested atop his knees. "I d-don't think I'm good en-nough to be your living l-legacy."

Throughout his long vigil the shadows seemed to creep ever closer. Feeling increasingly paranoid his eyes kept darting side to side, expecting fiends to jump out of the darkness.

This feeling intensified until Cloud was positive there was someone else in the church. He didn't need the bell, which had suddenly begun to ring from the tower, to announce the presence of the final ghost.

A shrouded shape blacker than the darkest corner of the building drifted down the center aisle like mist. A deep hood obscured its entire face, concealing the identity of the individual. Long sleeves fell well past its hands, one of which grasped a long and deadly-looking scythe. The blade gave off the barest amount of light, like a waning crescent moon.

"Are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?" asked Cloud, his voice wavering slightly. This being was more imposing than the others, only more so in its anonymity.

The Spirit dipped its head in a solemn nod.

"So… you're going to show me things that are going to happen?" pressed the swordsman.

Again the figure bowed, though it didn't speak. After a moment of silence it raised its free hand and beckoned to him. Cloud walked cautiously forward and stopped a short distance away. What sort of spectral eyes were watching him under that black cloak? Cloud stared into where he thought the Ghost's eyes would be, refusing to be intimidated.

"Are we going or not?"

The Ghost raised its scythe and Cloud took a step back, expecting to be attacked. But it merely tapped on the floor with the butt of the shaft.

The change this time was neither instantaneous nor undetectable. Time began to literally eat away at the surroundings. Cloud witnessed the ceiling crumble in large chunks, wooden pews being smashed and dislodged, and windows shattered by both the elements and living creatures. The smell of decay was evident, and from the various droppings scattered along the floor a sizeable pack of fiends had occupied the church for a while. The flower bed was nothing more than a patch of dirt; any growth had withered and crumbled away. And it wasn't just monsters that had defiled the sanctuary; graffiti covered a large amount of the bare walls, crude words written in harsh red lettering. The paint had dripped as it dried, making horrific imagery of blood weeping down the walls.

Seeing the church in this condition was horrible and Cloud couldn't bear standing there. "Can we go? Please," he added when the Spirit remained motionless.

Another tap of the scythe against the ground brought them outside on the cliff overlooking Midgar. How was it possible that the world could look so bleak? The city ruins seemed to stretch farther along the horizon than he recalled. The swordsman squinted into the distance at the shattered suburban outline and realized it was true: the like a limb with gangrene, Edge was slowly falling into disrepair, dying as it became more and more like its neighbor. The world was falling apart nearer in the future than he could have ever believed and the failing Lifestream, still recovering from its counterattack against Meteor, couldn't help defend it.

Death reigned on the Planet.

Cloud took a step forward and landed awkwardly upon an object buried in the dirt. He nudged at the protuberance with the tow of his boot but it was too heavy to move. Intrigued, he bent down and dug out the object with his fingers. First the long handle, grit embedded in the intricate leather crossings, and then the whole thing came loose with a few yanks. Well, not really the whole thing.

"How…?" Cloud rand a hand along the thick flat blade, which ended abruptly in a jagged crack two feet from the cross guard. Every inch of the metal was solid rust.

With an almost manic focus he searched the surrounding area and at long last he managed to find another section of blade. It too was so crusted over it was hardly sharp. Yet it still wasn't large enough to compensate for the sword's entire mass. There was at least one other piece. He had to find it.

The Ghost watched on as he circled the area. It was foolish, he knew. There was no way he could repair it even if he had all the pieces. But even so, he couldn't just abandon the buster sword. Cloud felt personally responsible for its condition.

A firm calloused hand gripped his shoulder, the pressure bringing him back to reality. He was on his knees, staring down at his hands buried in the dirt. And as he watched, tiny round spots bloomed beneath him as the ground inexplicably darkened. More specks appeared seconds after.

_Tears?_ Cloud raised a dirty hand to his face. It came away wet, mixing into mud that slid between his fingers. When had he begun to cry?

"I'm… I'm dead, aren't I," Cloud spoke in a low voice, unable to look at his companion. He knew the answer.

An odd sensation stirred in the pit of his stomach. How long into the future were they? How many months, weeks, _days_ did he have left to live? But no matter the time frame, he knew how it would end. Mucky sludge bubbling from his pores as the disease coursed through his weakened body. Crippling, blinding pain. And utterly alone.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come had not uttered a single word so far. Honestly, he was wishing the first ghost was back; even though it had harbored Vincent's outward apathy at least it had spoken to him.

He stood up and rubbed his eyes, not bothering to dust the dirt from his pants. _Get a grip, Strife,_ he goaded himself. The buster sword's worn handle lay at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, but as soon as he touched the leather the scene shifted and the handle disappeared through his fingers.

Enraged, Cloud rounded on the Ghost. "How dare you." He'd had enough of this. Supernatural being or not, he wouldn't be made a fool.

Smoke seemed to rise from beneath the Spirit's hood, as if the swordsman's insolence had angered it. It banged its scythe against the ground with the sound of a thunderclap.

Once again Cloud had been brought to Seventh Heaven, though there was certainly none of the previous holiday excitement. The bar was as dingy as he had ever seen it, and only a few solitary patrons inhabited the room. The state of the bar made him concerned—Tifa had never let it get this bad. He was worried for the woman's safety, but found her in her usual place behind the bar. She was cleaning some glasses, but one glance showed that she had no interest in the task. Worry and stress were evident in her frail appearance.

A tinkle of a bell announced a new customer. Cloud turned in time to see Reeve Tuesti walk through the door. The man looked as immaculately dressed as usual, but he too had the air of hitting rough times.

He walked straight to the bar with a weary smile for the barmaid. "Tifa, how are you today?"

With a strained smile she briskly replied, "Same as usual. Can I get you the regular?" Reeve nodded and Tifa left to make his drink.

"The regular," Cloud repeated to himself. He could count on one hand the number of times Reeve had visited Seventh Heaven. From their tone it sounded like he'd been stopping by a lot more.

"So how's the organization coming along?" Tifa asked when she returned, placing the dark beverage on the counter.

Reeve brushed his fingers through his hair in a tired manner before reaching for the glass. After taking a sip he answered, "We're crawling. Volunteers keep pouring in, but the WRO will never get off the round without money to back our operations. But enough about that. How are you faring?" he asked with his father-like concern kicking in. He watched with worried eyes as Tifa sighed.

"As well as I can be. It's… tough sometimes," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the counter. Tears glistened in her eyes but she refused to shed them. "Reeve, you don't have to keep coming to check up on me. The trip is out of your way and you're busy as it is."

Reeve reached out a hand and placed it atop one of hers in a sympathetic gesture. "I suppose it was naive of me to assume we would all stick together. But with everything that'd happened recently…" he trailed off, not wanting to continue and upset the woman further. "You should get out of here, Tifa. Edge can't be the best place for you."

"Where else can I go?" She shook her head at Reeve's suggestion of Nibelheim. "That isn't my home anymore. There's no reason to go back."

"But there's no reason to stay here." Of course he was saying this for her well being, but Tifa seemed exasperated by his intrusion.

"It's just how things are." She gently pulled free and squeezed her friend's hand a moment. "Thank you," she whispered.

The ex-Shinra employee nodded as Tifa went to give refills for her other customers. The two didn't talk again until Reeve drained his glass and they exchanged farewells.

"What happened here?" Cloud asked as the man left the bar. "Where is everybody?" He was scared of the answer, but he needed to find out.

The scythe banged against the floor and time changed within Seventh Heaven. Tifa and Barret were standing around the bar. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the room, as well as an undercurrent of grieving melancholy. A small suitcase was sitting near the front door.

"Marlene!" Barret boomed. "We gotta go!"

Soft footsteps lighted down the stairs and the little girl entered. In her arms was a worn moogle doll, which she clenched tightly to her chest. Sad brown eyes flickered to her father and then travelled to Tifa. Her lips trembled and she rushed over to the woman, clinging to her legs.

"Tifa," she sobbed, burying her face into the woman's skirt.

"It's okay Marlene," Tifa said, trying to remain positive. "We'll see each other soon."

"But I don't want to leave. You'll be all alone!"

_Alone._ Cloud watched as the adults exchanged a quick glance. So he had passed on as he predicted… but it seems he hadn't been the only one.

He turned to the dark figure next to him. "Spirit, is Denzel gone too?"

Silence.

He turned back to study his friends, his own emotions in sync with those of the room now. Denzel was gone, and Barret was taking Marlene away. He felt angry at the man, though he was probably only thinking of his adopted daughter's welfare. The city was a breeding ground for geostigma. But what about Tifa? The two had developed such a close relationship, almost as if they were sisters. It was cruel of Barret to separate Marlene from her.

Finally snapping, Cloud rounded on the Ghost. He stomped forward and grabbed the front of its cloak. "Tell me what's going on. Did the team really disband like it sounds like? Talk!"

The Spirit inhaled a rattling breath and then hacking cough. Smoke drifted from beneath the black folds. Seized with an idea and not pausing to reconsider, he reached up and yanked the Ghost's hood off.

_"Cid?!"_ Cloud felt deliriously relieved. The silence of the unknown being had affected him more than he would have thought, and his imagination was getting to the better of him. What would he have done if it had been Sephiroth under the cloak?

The Spirit looked at him with an indignant expression. There was a cigarette dangling from its mouth, which explained the inexplicable smoke. A spare cigarette was tucked under the goggles on its head in the exact fashion of the pilot, though the goggles were the only article of clothing that was similar.

"Nah, I ain't called by any human name like that," said the Ghost.

"Why didn't you talk to me?" asked Cloud in annoyance.

"Cause I wanted to mess with ya. Heard ya were given the other spirits a hell of a hard time," replied the Ghost. It took a puff, not the least bit phased by the man's rage. It actually had a roughish smirk on its face as it blew out a long stream of smoke. "How's it feel, havin' yer fire back?"

Cloud blinked caught off guard. Actually, he hadn't been this riled up in a long time. "What's with that outfit?" he retaliated, not wanting to admit what the Spirit had done to him.

"Oh that's peachy, coming from a guy who wears only one sleeve. Ya'll look f*#^in' lopsided. And I happen ta think I look rather intimidatin', thank ya very much."

The swordsman wanted to roll his eyes. Even though the Ghost was certainly less scary now that it's face had been revealed, it posed a bigger problem now. After all this, and knowing how in character the other spirits were, he probably won't be able to get it to shut up.

"So, now what?" he asked. The bar was empty now; in the commotion he had missed Barret and Marlene's departure.

"Quit yer bellyachin', we're gettin' there." The Ghost swirled its long scythe around. "Here we go. Time ta see what'll happen if you give up." The wooden pole hit the ground with a definitive thump.

Cloud watched a nightmarish cycle unfold before him, and from it he finally learned everything he had been searching for and more. It was the Lifestream that was the origin of the disease. When it had rose up to protect the Planet from Meteor it became contaminated with Jenova cells. People with weak immune systems had a predisposition for the disease and made perfect hosts, but the disease was highly transmittable and soon anyone could become carriers. As time went on more and more people got the stigma, and fatalities began to tally up—geostigma was nothing more than a painful death sentence. The disease even started to mutate until it sought new hosts in fiends. The infected souls returned to the Lifestream, further polluting it and empowering the geostigma.

"Ya'll think that's bad, just ya f*#^in' wait. I saved the worst for last," spoke the Ghost.

There was a flash of murky light and Sephiroth himself appeared, standing atop the ruined shell of the old Shinra Building. His mouth was tilted up into a smirk as he called down the polluted Lifestream.

"Sephiroth!" Cloud shouted. He was back?! How?! The swordsman started forward without a plan or a weapon, but the Ghost held him back.

"Ya'll can't stop him. Yer dead, remember?" said the Spirit.

Dark tendrils streaked down from the sky at the silver-haired villain's command. These travelled in a raging current through Midgar and into the populated streets of Edge. The screams of the poor city folk carried for miles. The sky was an evil murky fog as far as the eye could see.

"Sephiroth's gonna destroy the world fer his d^% mom," narrated the Spirit as they observed the destruction. "It'll take only two days before every d^% thing's wiped off the Planet."

"That's enough!" cried Cloud. "I don't want to see anymore."

The ominous landscape dissolved into the Church in the Slums. The lack of damage within the building indicated that they were back in the present.

Cloud closed his eyes, but the visions still flickered past. So the Planet was destined to be destroyed by Sephiroth after all. To think all their effort, all the sacrifices, had only served to delay the inevitable.

"S#!% It's time ta get yer a$$ back in gear, buddy. Unless ya'll want the world to end up like this."

"Okay, I get it. It's all up to me," Cloud finally acknowledged. He thought of the polluted Lifestream Sephiroth used to attack the world. "Just how am I supposed to stop this from happening? How do you even know I'll make any difference?"

"Even fer me all the paths the future can take are unclear. But everything will happen like I've shown if ya'll don't try at all."

That was true. The world desperately needed help and there weren't that many people with the capability to do something about it. And since his team stepped in last year, the burden fell on his lap once more. But hadn't he given up on this world? Why should he care, since he was going to die soon anyway.

"I think it's time ya'll got yer priorities straight."

xxxxx

Cloud stayed awake all through the remainder of the night, long after the final ghost had left. Thoughts jumbled through his mind as he tried to decide what to do. Stopping Sephiroth again was a task bigger and more formidable than scaling Mt. Nibel. And even if he managed that, would geostigma be stopped as well? It was simply too big of a job for one man.

The sky gradually became lighter as dawn approached, bringing a bit more color to the gray world. Cloud looked up through the holey ceiling in mild awe—the night had been so long he was under the impression that it would last for eternity.

With the extra light he was able to notice something he hadn't in the dark. Amid the withering lilies in the garden a single red flower had bloomed, towering over its fellows with bright, full petals. He walked slowly over to the garden and squatted next to the flower, touching it gently to make sure it was real.

"Okay, I guess I will," he whispered. Standing up, he grabbed his gloves and goggles and walked resolutely out the door.

* * *

**Okay the contest is over, but you can still post what characters you'd pick for the main roles (I'd love to read them!) Thanks to Soldier de Veritas, pyrotechnix and Skykhanhunter for playing! Unfortunately none of you guess completely correct, but in the spirit of the holidays you each get a little reward. I'll contact you all with the details. Thanks again!**


	5. The End of It

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you've all been good this year, hehe. This is my gift to you—the final chapter of An Advent Carol! I had tremendous amounts of fun writing this, so I hope you all enjoyed it. I'll be posting an extra little goody within the week, so watch out for it. And remember kids, if ghosts come visit you in the middle of the night, do exactly what they say xD Embrace your dreams!**

* * *

**~Stave Five:****The End of It~**

Cloud didn't get very far. Halfway down the cracked stone steps of the church his geostigma flared. He stumbled down the remaining three ledges and fell to the ground, clutching his arm. The sharp pain sizzled through his body, sapping him of his remaining energy as his muscles convulsed.

When the attack was over he lay on the ground panting with closed eyes. _What am I thinking?_ he thought._ This is hopeless. I can barely hold myself together. _All ideas of heading off to Edge vanished as his will faded.

_Don't give up._

_Zack?!_

He felt as if strong arms were wrapped around his torso, trying to hoist him up. That was right, he couldn't give up now. Cloud groaned and struggled, trying to make his weary body move.

When he opened his eyes he was on his feet. He looked down at his left arm and noticed a trail of black that had trickled past his sleeve and onto his glove. His hand tightened into a fist. No, he wouldn't give up. If he was lacking in hope, at least he had recovered his stubbornness.

The swordsman gazed up towards the empty tower where the mysterious bell had rung three times last night. "Merry Christmas, Aerith," he whispered, and then revved the engine. Fenrir's tires squealed in the snow as it raced off through the ruins.

The sun had risen by the time Cloud made it to the inhabited outskirts of Edge. Most streets were still shaded by buildings, yet that still hadn't deterred people from heading out into the chill. More people than usual at this time of day, actually. Cloud had to slow down as he turned onto a particularly crowded street full of cheerful shoppers. The scene seemed awfully familiar.

"Hey kid," he called, coming to a halt near a group of children who were attempting to make a snowmoogle out of the slush, "what day is it?"

The boy looked at him like he was out of his mind. "It's Christmas, duh," he replied and turned back to his work.

Christmas Day. So he hadn't missed it after all. He travelled with a lighter heart now, observing the groups of people giving season's greetings to one another. Fenrir could hardly travel down the packed roads—it was only do to the generosity of the pedestrians that he hadn't come to a completely standstill.

He was nearly to his destination when a certain store caught his eye. A delicious, mouthwatering smell caught him the second after. Now that he was completely real this time, Cloud decided to make a quick stop before heading home.

xxx

It felt surreal walking into the bar. Seventh Heaven was closed for the holiday, but Tifa had kept the door open in case her guests showed up early. There was some clinking coming from the next room. The swordsman walked quietly through the bar and paused at the door leading into the kitchen. Slowly he pushed it open and stepped inside. Tifa was cooking at the stove with her back to him. He stood there, watching her lean form as she moved about grabbing spices and sprinkling them into whatever she was making. Then she went over to the counter and began chopping onions at a swift, efficient rate.

"Barret, don't just stand there all day," called Tifa without turning around. "If you're done plucking the turkey, then bring it here. We need to get it cooking."

He shuffled uneasily where he stood, not knowing how to announce himself.

"Barret?" At last Tifa paused to look over. Her eyes went wide and she dropped the knife she was holding, which fell to the floor with a loud clang.

"Cloud, you're back!" Stepping over the knife she quickly crossed the room and embraced him.

He smiled a little and cautiously wrapped one arm around her in a loose hug. "No, I'm home."

An unexpected weight ran into the back of his legs and clutched tightly at his pants. "Cloud!" shouted a delighted Marlene. "Denzel, come look! Cloud's here!"

Tifa laughed and stepped away so Cloud could squat down and give Marlene a proper hug.

"We knew you'd be home for Christmas! Right Denzel?" said Marlene, gazing over to where Denzel had appeared in the doorway. Denzel nodded, looking uncertainly at Cloud.

"Hey," greeted the swordsman with a nod to the boy.

"Hi."

Denzel looked a little shocked when Cloud raised one arm to him, though he did walk over with a happy smile to be embraced alongside Marlene.

"What's in the box, Cloud?" asked Tifa, looking at the wrapped bundle he had laid down on the floor before hugging the young girl.

The kids backed up so Cloud could stand and hand the bundle over to her. "Fresh gingerbread from the bakery on Jidoor Street. It's a little cold from the ride."

"I'll warm it up." Tifa went to go cut up the cake and heat it in the oven. All the while her mind was spinning. She truly didn't think she'd see him, maybe even ever again. Yet here he was, without notice like he'd only gone out for milk. She didn't know whether to yell at him or hug him again.

Now that Cloud had seen his family he was once again reminded of his duty to save the world and the anxiety began to eat away at him once more. His eyes flickered to the children before he said, "Tifa, can I talk to you?"

Warm brown eyes became concerned. "Kids, why don't you go finish decorating."

"Sure Tifa!" replied Marlene, who took Denzel's hand and lead him to the living room.

"What is it?" she asked once they were alone. "You're not thinking of leaving again."

"Not exactly…" Using only the most necessary details that didn't make him sound like a hallucinating insomniac, Cloud explained how the world was in danger from more than geostigma.

Despite the horrific images he was describing, Tifa laughed. "It's good to see you have your motivation again. If Sephiroth is coming back, all of us will be ready for him. But I'm sure we can delay for one day, right?" She gave him a wink. "It is Christmas, after all."

"And I didn't even get any presents," he replied with a frown. This visit was turning out to be more complicated than he had planned.

In a more serious tone Tifa said, "We just want _you_ Cloud. Be here for us."

"I-"

Just then the kitchen door banged open and the man whom Tifa was originally expecting entered. "Spikey! The hell you've been?" asked Barret, slapping him on the back. Cloud winced; Barret never had the gentlest of greetings.

"Barret, where's my turkey?" interrupted Tifa, looking at the man's empty hands.

"'Bout that," he muttered, scratching his chin. "Thought it might be faster to shoot the feathers off, but…"

"Barret!"

"Sorry Barret, I have to go," said Cloud. An idea had popped into his head just then, and he needed to get it done before he ran out of time. He wanted to show his family he wouldn't run away from them again.

"Where you gotta go?" asked the large man suspiciously.

"Just out." It would be tough finding something so unique at the last minute, but he'd do his best. "I'll be back before dinner!" he called, and hurried out the door.

xxx

"Now where to look…" Cloud muttered under his breath as he looked around at the various shops fifteen minutes later. He usually stayed away from the market, unless he stopped to view the weapons shop's new wares or needed to restock on potions.

Eventually he had to ask directions. The elderly woman and her daughter both laughed at his unease but told him exactly where to find the best jeweler's shop in Edge, where he was guaranteed to find whatever accessory or trinket he could possibly imagine.

Of course the shop was packed. The swordsman viewed the customers filing in and out with trepidation until he had built up enough courage to slip into the line. The building wasn't just packed with people; every square inch of space on tables and shelves was taken up by displays of belts, rings, necklaces, ribbons, keychains, headbands, circlets, pins, gloves, amulets, wristlets and other talismans. Some offered special protection against fiends while others were simply worn for fashion.

He walked around until he found the emptiest corner of the shop and selected a shelf at random to begin his search. As he reached for a clear container of earrings, a large pearl fell off the ledge and began to roll across the floor. Cloud chased after it, running into another shopper in the process.

"Watch where the f*#& yer going, a$$hole!" cursed the man, fumbling the item he was inspecting.

The swordsman halted in his tracks and turned back to the man in shock. "Cid?"

"Yeah, who the hell's ask—_Cloud?_" The pilot eyed him in surprise before becoming suspicious. "What're ya doin' here? If Tifa found out ya was in Edge and didn't go ta see her, she'd bust yer balls."

"I already went to Seventh Heaven." He looked down at the tiny black case in Cid's hands, which he quickly snapped shut and hid from view. "What are _you_ doing here, Cid?"

"None of yer d&# business!" he snapped. He actually flushed a little. "Look here, we never saw each other. Right?"

"Sure."

After that both men parted ways. Cloud couldn't help but think this Christmas was certainly going to be interesting.

xxx

He returned home exhausted two hours later, fully reminded why he hated shopping. At least after all the scrounging through shelves and bins of miscellaneous jewelry he had found the perfect items. There was even a matching earring for himself. The only problem was he hadn't found anything for Marlene. He searched and searched, but there was nothing that fit. At last he had to give up and hoped he could make it up to her some other time.

He carefully opened the door and snuck into the bar. Luckily no one was in sight, so he crept up the stairs and into his office, where he operated Strife Delivery Service. Now where to stash the gifts? He had just pulled open his top desk drawer and was making room when he heard a soft "hmm" behind him.

Cloud whipped around, stuffing the small boxes into the drawer and quickly closing it. Tifa was leaning against the doorway, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"I thought you were giving yourself a break, Cloud," she gently admonished. She walked over and Cloud stiffened, but she merely flipped close a textbook resting on the desk. Then the woman looked up into his face, staring at him with a mysterious smile.

"Cloud," she said in a low, tantalizing voice.

Cloud gulped, floundering and at a lost for what to do. "Y-yes?"

Tifa's smile widened and she closed the small gap between them. Cloud gasped when the woman shoved something into his chest that she had been hiding behind her back. He looked down. A string of Christmas lights?

"You promised you'd hang these up. It's getting late, and everyone is arriving in an hour." She winked and glided out of the room, leaving him gaping after her.

xxx

Night approached and the company came with it. To Cloud's initial shock Vincent was the first person there. Tifa whispered to him that the gunman probably wanted his arrival to be quiet, which he wouldn't get if most of the team was already there. She said this perception quietly, but even so, Vincent, who was halfway across the room, heard and gave his version of a small grin.

The door chimed a few moments later and Cloud and Tifa went to welcome the others. Cid and Shera came in from the snowy street, followed closely by Red XIII and Elmyra. Tifa quickly offered to take everybody's coats and scarves.

"Where's your coat, Cid?" asked Tifa when she noticed the pilot had on nothing but a blue t-shirt.

"That idiotic Shera forgot ta being one," replied Cid with a grumble.

"I'm sorry, captain," mumbled Shera with downcast eyes. She shrugged out of Cid's coat and meekly gave it to Tifa.

"Oh, stop f*#^in' appoligizin' already." The pilot coughed and then turned his attention to Cloud. "See, I told ya'll our fearless leader was back," clamored Cid, punching him in the arm as a greeting.

"And where did you see him again?" asked Red.

Cloud grimaced. So much for thinking Cid could keep his own secret.

There was a crash from the second story. Everyone turned as Yuffie came down the stairs, boots squeaking and dripping wet. "Who left a bucket of water in the bathroom?" she demanded as her bangs dripped water onto the hardwood floor.

"Serves ya right for not comin' in the front door with the rest of us, ya brat."

"Just like old times," commented Red, sharing a look with Cloud. He exchanged "Merry Christmas"s and then padded into the living room after the squabbling ninja and pilot.

"Thank you so much for inviting me, dearies. It was too kind of you," expressed Elmyra, giving them both a warm hug.

"Aerith wouldn't have wanted you spending the holiday by yourself," Tifa replied with a kind smile. "And Marlene wanted you to be here. She said she missed you." The martial artist guided the old woman into the house where everyone had gathered.

The final arrival was Reeve, who came with his newest model Cait Sith tagging at his heels. Both were wearing Santa Claus hats.

"Merry Christmas," greeted Reeve.

"And a happy new year!" added the robotic cat.

"Everybody here?" boomed Barret, who came down the stairs with the children. "Good, let's eat!" Without further ado he strode to the kitchen.

"Barret, we're sitting down and eating together. Don't touch the dessert yet!"

The bar was full of laughter as the group ate. All the tables had been pushed together and covered with festive tablecloths, just like it had been done during Cloud's childhood in Nibelheim. He found he was enjoying himself more than he had in months. Of course he was teased about his new wolf earring -"Couldn't you at least wrap your own gift and wait like everyone else, Strife?"- but he didn't care. It was great just having the whole team together again.

After dinner they gathered in the living room near the beautiful glittering Christmas tree, drinking eggnog and munching on sugar cookies.

"Present time!" shouted Yuffie, diving for the various boxes.

Barret grabbed her by the collar before she got to the tree. "Act your age, foo'. Let the children get theirs first."

The ninja grumbled as everyone laughed. Soon everyone was passing gifts around the room and it was a free-for-all as people began tearing through the bright wrappings and letting out delightful cries at what they found inside.

The best surprise came when Cid got down on his knees in front of a dumbfounded Shera. He dug into his pocket until he found the tiny black box with a diamond ring inside. Everyone shushed one another and giggled as the pilot coughed, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Look… Well… Ah f*#^ I don't know how ta do this! Shera, marry me!"

Shera looked like she didn't know how to respond. She looked down at the scruffy man who was trying his hardest not to appear nervous, and then to the glittering diamond as deep a blue as the endless skies.

"Y-yes, captain-I mean, Cid. I'd love to marry you."

"Good," replied Cid, though he looked immensely relieved as he slipped the ring on her finger. He stood up and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, which received whistles from most of the room. "What're ya'll staring at? Get back ta opening yer Gawddamn presents."

It turned out all of Cloud's friends pitched in to get him a new cell phone with a "special" plan.

"See, now you get unlimited text and picture messaging from anywhere in the world!" explained Yuffie excitedly. "So you don't technically have to talk to us. Just send a quick text!"

"Make sure to keep in touch," Tifa added, her tone sounding lighter than the look she gave him.

When the space below the tree was finally empty everyone sat around joking, reminiscing and filling in one another about their exploits in the past year prior to the last time they were all gathered. During the light-hearted conversation Yuffie was trying to act casual as she inched closer and closer to Vincent in an attempt to complete her sworn mission of the night. But it seemed like he was perfectly prepared to counter any of the ninja's plans. Yuffie was nearly sulking by the end of the night.

In a last ditch effort Yuffie abandoned all subterfuge and jumped at Vincent. But his reflexes proved too fast and he ducked as she sailed past him, slipped over the arm of the couch and landed in a heap on the floor, banging her head and elbow against the wall in the process.

"Stupid jerk vampire," Yuffie whimpered, rubbing her forehead where it had hit the wall. To her mortification, tears began forming in the corners of her eyes and she scrubbed them away in frustration. Master ninjas never cried, but why couldn't she just get her freaking kiss?!

She jumped a little when peaking from behind her hands she saw armor covered boots a foot away from where she was sitting. She looked up and saw Vincent staring down at her.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. Yuffie couldn't see most of his face, but the expression in his eyes looked sincere.

She sniffled and nodded, wondering how far she could milk this. "I just wanted a Christmas kiss," she whispered, lowering her eyes and trying her best to think sad thoughts.

Vincent sighed and reached down to help her up. Yuffie held back a grin as she was pulled to her feet. The gunman wanted to sigh again at the desolate puppy-dog look on her face. Well, it was only a kiss.

Yuffie squealed in delight as she felt Vincent's lips press lightly against her forehead. "Merry Christmas, Yuffie."

"Same to you, Vince," she replied, beaming up at the gunman. Ha, so he could be a nice guy after all!

It was getting late and everyone was talking about turning in for the night. But before anyone could leave, Marlene leapt from Barret's lap and skipped over to the hall closet, where she had hidden her special surprise for everyone.

The little girl looked so serious when she returned that everyone stopped talking so she could speak.

"I have something for everyone, because… because I don't think we should forget what this season is all about. It's not just about presents and being nice; it's about being with everyone, and remembering those we love." She reached into her bag and pulled out a long piece of thin pink ribbon, the same color as the bow in her hair. "Daddy says it's important to never forget anyone who returns to the Lifestream. There's someone we love that isn't here with us, and I think we should make sure we don't forget her."

All the adults quietly accepted their own ribbon as Marlene passed them around, some stroking it thoughtfully while others already beginning to tie it around their arms or wrists. There weren't too many faces that seemed unaffected by Marlene's speech.

She handed a ribbon to Denzel last. "You didn't know Aerith, but you would have liked her if you did, Denzel. She was a part of this family, just like you."

The boy took the pink ribbon silently and then looked around at the assembled group of very diverse individuals. He looked at Cloud last, his idol, the one who saved him and gave him this new life. The boy's smile was especially for him.

"I'll be damned. We all got showed up by a little girl," remarked Cid, looking down at his ribbon and shaking his head in amazement.

xxx

The sleeping arrangements agreed upon, although there were moments that strained the cheer of the festive holiday. All the guests were finally satisfied, leaving Cloud with Tifa, Denzel and Marlene alone in the living room.

"That was fun," shared a sleepy Marlene. "The best Christmas yet."

"You made it special, sweetie," replied Tifa, giving the girl a hug. "Come on, let's get you two to bed."

"Wait."

Tifa turned in surprise to Cloud, who was standing near the tree looking uncomfortable.

"What is it, Cloud?" she asked apprehensively. The evening had gone so well. She prayed the swordsman wouldn't ruin it by leaving.

"I have something for you. Denzel too."

"Okay," Tifa replied. She urged Marlene upstairs, promising to come up and tuck her in bed in a moment. Denzel looked uncertain as he stood next to Tifa, as if he didn't know why he wasn't going upstairs with his friend.

"I want to say… I'm sorry. It was wrong to abandon you. And I want you to believe that I won't do it again." He reached into his pocket and withdrew the two boxes he had wrapped, handing one to each of them.

He watched anxiously as both unwrapped the silver rings he had found. Both depicted the head of a wolf. A lone wolf that sometimes had so run solo, but would always be there when they needed him.

"Even if you're not in the city you're still with us, right?" Tifa said with a smile. She quietly slipped it on her finger, admiring how the silver gleamed in the low lighting.

"It's a little big," Cloud told Denzel apologetically as he watched the boy try to place it on his own finger. "I'll get you a chain so you can wear it around your neck."

Denzel nodded, unable to take his eyes off the hand carved wolf's head. He was amazed he had gotten a Christmas present. The swordsman must like him more than he thought. "Thanks, Cloud."

Cloud nodded, feeling relieved his gift had gone over well. Then he turned to Tifa, who was watching him with a peculiar expression. "Tifa, can I… go tuck Marlene in?"

The woman gave him a small smile and nodded. "Go ahead."

Cloud walked upstairs and tiptoed past the guests' rooms to the kid's bedroom. Marlene was already in bed, but her eyes were open as she patiently waited. He went over and sat down hesitantly on the mattress. If he thought giving the rings was hard, it was nothing compared to telling this little girl he didn't have a Christmas present for her.

"Sorry Marlene, I couldn't find a third ring for you," Cloud told her with a frown. He braced himself for her disappointment, so he was shocked when Marlene smiled and sat up to give him a hug.

"I don't need one, Cloud. Having you here is better than a ring."

"Are you sure?" He could still go out tomorrow and brave the crowds to find a toy or something for her.

"Yep." She hugged him once more and then settled back into her pillow, allowing Cloud to pull the sheets up around her. "Good night," she said, her words trailing into a yawn.

"Good night." Cloud watched her for a moment before getting up and walking quietly out of the room.

"That was sweet," whispered Tifa, who was waiting for him in the hall.

Cloud just shrugged self-consciously. Oh, how he wished he could just explain his feelings for once in his life!

Denzel crept by and the adults both called out "good night" as he closed the bedroom door.

"I'm glad I came back," the swordsman finally forced aloud.

Tifa brightened at the direct admission. "I'm glad too."

Slowly, she reached up on tiptoes and kissed Cloud's lips. The knot of worry, stress and fear seemed to come loose as he wrapped his arms around Tifa and kissed her back. He had been waiting for this moment for years.

_Thank you, Zack. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you._

He silently promised that he'd never give up on life again. The ghosts' lessons were kept in his heart forevermore, when the snow melted into spring and the geostigma plague became even more momentous, and he was further crippled by the disease. Even during the ominous arrival of the Remnants and Sephiroth's rebirth, Cloud never lost the flame that had been rekindled in his heart. He earned the right to be called the living legacy of a hero, because he was a true hero himself.

* * *

**Please review! =) And thanks to the contestants who contributed what gift they wanted a character to receive for Christmas from another character. For Skykhanhunter: you blocked receiving messages on your account, so if you want to tell me your request in a review, please do so and I'll add it in.  
**


	6. Fun Facts

**Author's Note: Happy New Year! Wow a new decade. Who knows what could happen in the next few years? A Final Fantasy VII remake for the PS3? Lol, one can only hope. Anyway, here's some extra notes and fun stuff about the story I took down as I wrote. Yea, I guess I thought a little too deeply about everything xD And there's also a preview for a future story I might write at the end of the year.  


* * *

**

~_An Advent Carol_ Fun Facts~

-This story turned out to be much more serious than I originally intended. The final chapter hopefully makes up for it.

-All the random names, like Cloud's mother's, are from _A Christmas Carol_. If you read closely there is actually a "Valentine" mentioned in the second chapter.

-Denzel and Marlene both take over Tiny Tim's job. Denzel has the disability (geostigma) while Marlene is the pure wise-for-her-years voice that reminds everyone what Christmas is all about ("God bless us, everyone" lol)

-My favorite line from my story is in the second stave where Cloud and his mom are making paper snowflakes: "And as a plus he'd get to cut stuff." Typical Cloud xD And my favorite line from _A Christmas Carol_ is "The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found himself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am now to you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow." I'm not gonna lie, that creeped me out when I first read that.

-The teenagers having the snowball fighting in Edge were my OCs. The redheaded girl was Megan, the main character in the group, and the one hit with the snowball was Mike.

-The buster sword cracked in three large pieces in dedication to the owners of the weapon: Angeal, Zack and Cloud, signifying their passing and the end of the sword's era. The third missing piece was Cloud, since his destiny was uncertain.

-I created a few scenarios in respect to the Spirits. Originally I had Sephiroth, Aerith and Zack as the ghostly visitors, since they are all deceased and had a connection to Cloud. But I there wasn't a good enough correlation for the time periods, so I messed around before getting the final combination. Vincent can't stop dwelling on the past, Yuffie doesn't care about consequences and lives in the now, and Cid dreams about accomplishing his life's goal of one day being the first man in space.

-Vincent's form fluctuates just like the Ghost in the novel, and they are both "young and old". I didn't want to add the flame of light on the brow in order to stay close to character, so I just had his eyes bright and constant.

-Yuffie matches up to the jolly giant of Christmas Present. It's impossible to make Yuffie more cheerful and excitable than she already is, so I made her intensely strong and heavy as if she was as big as a giant.

-Cid… well, Cid was kind of my idea of a joke. I didn't want to make the "future experience" super depressing, so I needed some comic relief. This ghost is sometimes associated with the grim reaper, so I thought Cid's weapon appropriate.

-Scrooge vs Cloud: Well, obviously Cloud isn't shutting himself up in an office counting gold and plotting ways to foil innocent bystanders' happiness. But these two men share a similarity in their destructive physical and mental states, their distancing of themselves from others who want to be with them and their overall dejection towards the Christmas spirit. While Cloud isn't "bah-humbug" about the season, his indifferent and self-wallowing attitude is just as bad and needed intervention to sort through. Cloud isn't going to be chained up to wallow in misery when he dies, he will suffer a grim end –and a grim end for the world as well- if he didn't pull himself together. How would Advent Children have ended without our hero, after all? The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come showed one likely scenario.

-Geostigma: The geostigma serves the purpose of the embodiment of Cloud's weakness. Ebenezer had his money, which consumed his thoughts and led how he focused on the world. Cloud is in a similar destructive rut, only his problem is opposite in respect to Ebenezer, since the spiky-headed swordsman is trying everything he can to vanquish his obsession. The physical pain he feels symbolizes his mental strife and also is a constant reminder of his goals, which seem to be virtually unattainable. In the beginning of the story it seems Cloud wants to find the cure to heal himself, but farther along we find out he initially started his journey to help Denzel.  
At the end the cure for geostigma is not magically obtained. But was that the point of the Spirits' visitations? No, the spirits came to give Cloud the boost to continue moving forward and help him find his hope despite the daunting task. Cloud decides to return to Seventh Heaven to be with his friends and family to celebrate Christmas Day. Hopefully Cloud bolsters the faith and fortitude not to give up. For faith is truly what the holiday is all about.

-As I was writing the section with Rufus and the Turks, I couldn't help but think about how much Rufus had reformed between game and movie. Was it just the glimpse of death that made him want to turn over a new leaf, or was it something more? Rufus would make a fantastic Scrooge, right? That's why I'm thinking about writing an accompaniment of An Advent Carol involving the Shinra crew for next Christmas. Here's a quick preview:

* * *

**~An Advent Carol: Second Verse~**

There was another knock on the door and Rufus gritted his teeth. Truly, how hard was it to follow one simple instruction?

"Boss, you have a visitor," called Reno.

"For the last time, I'm busy. I don't care who it is, send him away."

The Turk actually had the gall to enter his office, even if he just stuck his face through a small crack in the door. "But sir, it's Tuesti. And I don't think he's leaving until he sees you."

How dare that fool show his face. He shook his head at the former Director of Urban Development's cheek. Did Tuesti expect a warm welcome after he spied and plotted against Shinra with that band of miscreant lowlifes who ended up spelling the end for his company?

The president's eyes narrowed and the redhead gulped. "Tell him he can either leave willingly or be thrown out."

Reno nodded and went to leave, but Rufus delayed him with a curt "Wait." On second thought, this wasn't some simple-minded cretin he was dealing with. Tuesti wouldn't be deterred, and if he was tossed into the streets today he'd be back again tomorrow. Or worse, he'd send one of those ridiculous toy cats that would somehow sneak past his security and harass him. No, he had to handle this personally.

Rufus considered whom he would be dealing with. Presenting a kind face to the world until he could attack from a secure location later; that was Tuesti's way. He loathed men that couldn't fight face to face, couldn't stand their ground in front of an opponent. They were weak.

"In the spirit of the holidays, why don't you show him in," he replied to Reno with a smirk.

The president appraised the man as he was escorted into the room a moment later. Reeve Tuesti appeared to have aged dramatically since they last met, with a weather-beaten face and tired eyes that had been opened to the true horrors of the world. Rufus suppressed a snicker. Ha, it was about time this fool saw the inaccuracies of his idealistic views. The world was cruel, and you either push others in the path of the zolom or be eaten yourself.

"Mr. President," greeted the man with a bow.

"Tuesti," Rufus replied. He signaled to Tseng, who quietly left the room. "I'd invite you to sit, but I'd rather you tell me why you're here first. That way you can turn and walk out the door if I find my time would be otherwise better spent."

Reeve's jaw tightened. _Interesting, you've developed a backbone,_ Rufus noted. _A point to you, then._

"Sir, you of course know that I am currently establishing an organization with the purpose to help the population recover from the Jenova War and provide assistance in the construction of-"

"Yes yes, your little club. Get to the point," interrupted Rufus.

"The World Regenesis Organization is vital to the survival of the Planet. But we're in desperate need of funding."

So the man was here to pick his pockets, was he? Ruin his family's empire and then come crawling back pleading for assistance. Rufus sneered at the man in contempt. "I think I've heard enough." He reached up to the right corner of his desk and pressed the red button.

"Hold on!" demanded Tuesti, looking frantically over his shoulder as two black-suited Turks entered the room. "You can't just turn your back on all the suffering that is occurring in this city, under your very window! You have a debt to the world, Rufus!"

"Oh do I? Find someone else to preach to, _Reeve_. I've heard enough. Good day," he ended nastily. With a quick hand motion he ordered the man to be escorted from his presence.

Once the door closed and he was alone once more, he swiveled his chair and stood, walking over to the expansive window and gazing out into the scrapheap that was Edge. "The fool," Rufus muttered. It was his money and he would do with it what he will. Certainly none of the disgusting rats that Tuesti seemed in such desperation to help actually deserved _his_ aid. It would be a cold day in hell before Rufus Shinra looked after anyone but himself.

* * *

**Thank you all for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed it!**


End file.
